


Our Purpose

by TheSmallTownGirl



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: During Canon, Gay, M/M, Magic, Oblivious Simon Snow, POV First Person, POV Simon Snow, POV Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Stars, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch Is Gay for Simon Snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:29:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23794657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSmallTownGirl/pseuds/TheSmallTownGirl
Summary: The night after Simon shows Baz the stars, Baz can't help but ask him to do it one more time.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Kudos: 52





	Our Purpose

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm finally getting around to posting all of my works (in reverse order). You can also find me on Tumblr at @living-a-charmed-life, or on Wattpad @aspiring_writer_83

***Simon's POV***

"Sim- er, uh, Snow. Well I was wondering. I was _wondering_ , if, perhaps, _maybe-_ " I dunno what I've done. I think I've broken him. Baz stumbled in our room early this morning, while I was getting ready for breakfast. He came in, and started rambling about Crowley knows what, and Baz _never_ rambles. He's too bloody _perfect_ for that. But now it seems like he can't _stop_ rambling, which I don't know what to make of. I'm making an utter mess of my tie, and although he'd usually make a remark about my oafishness, he just continues to bluster.

It's _my_ turn to be an insufferable prat, I s'pose. "Spit it out, _Basil_." He flushes (he must've just fed) and looks down at his feet. The tosser isn't even looking me in the eyes. (We used to never make eye contact when we fought, really. Started only just fifth year, and then I realized his eyes made him right fit, so why ignore them?) Baz moves to sit on his bed and he seems... _nervous_. Like he might just go off at any second, so I change tactics and move to sit next to him. (Another sure sign of him being off? He's _letting me_ sit on his bed.)

He takes in a breath and composes himself. He still doesn't bloody look at me, but I look at him. Which is right weird, innit? Don't care. "When I was younger, my mum-" He stammers and looks somewhere near my face briefly, before continuing. "She used to tell me about how bright the stars were. Always said she'd take me to see them one day." He lets out a small, pitiful laugh, which is wrong for many reasons. Baz doesn't _laugh_. And Baz most certainly is _not_ pitiful. I'd said so once, and he nearly shoved me into the floor right there, anathema and all. (I s'pose he could be telling me this to get sympathy. For his plotting. Why else would he tell me about his mum?)

"I'm sorry... about your mum, Baz." Even if he's plotting, it's the least I can say. I know he must miss her, though I've never had a mum, so I dunno what that'd feel like. Right sad, I s'pose.

He waves me off. "Anyway... obviously, she never got to stick to her word," He looks up at me then, right in the eyes, before looking away. He doesn't want to be telling me all this, I can tell. But... maybe he needs to. ( _He's plotting_ , my brain reminds me. Right. Plotting. Of course.) "But last night, Snow. Last night I got to see the stars, if only for a moment." I've got no idea where the loon is going with this. We saw the stars last night yes, but what does that have to do with my missing a spot of brekkie? (The scones are _calling_ me.)

"Okay? But I don't-"

"Hush up a minute, Snow." He sneers, back to himself a bit. Some part of me is relieved, seeing him back to his snarky self, even if he is a complete prat. "So I was _wondering_ , if we are on a... _truce_ , of sorts... would you- er - _could_ you-" He groans and runs a hand through his hair. (It's not slicked today. He should wear it like this more- it's less posh. Makes him look more fit than usual, which is hard to do. For a bloke, anyway.) He sets his jaw, and whatever's coming, I know I won't be able to say no. (Unless I think it's part of his plot.) He looks at me, and with resolution I've not heard from him before, he says, "Just this once, Snow, could you take me to see the stars again?"

I dunno what I was expecting, but it wasn't that. _He wants me to take him back to the stars._ Part of me knows it's a bad idea. He's my enemy, and more than likely he's taking notes for his bloody plot. He'd have full access and ability to catch me off guard and kill me at any moment. And, to top it all off, I'd be missing food! All so he can... _see the stars with me_? (Not _with_ me. _Because_ of me. I'm his only resource. _Not_ with me.)

Which is why what comes out of my mouth next seems to surprise us both. "Of course I will, Baz." And I take his hands. (It's like they move with minds of their own.) I s'pose breakfast can wait a bit.

***Baz's POV***

****I don't know why I thought this was a good idea for even a moment. I should have thought it through- I _always_ think these things through. Maybe it was the way the stars reminded me of mother, or the way Simon's hand felt in mine - or even the intoxication of his magic - but _something_ made me ask him to do it again. And even more surprisingly; he _is_. He's taken my hands and started filling me with his magic. Leave it to Snow to make me feel like an empty vast of nothing, waiting to be filled. ( _By him_.)

" **Twinkle Twinkle, Little Star.** " I cast. I only have to cast about two lines of the rhyme before the room around us falls away and we're floating in space. All around us, thousands and thousands of stars. But the only thing I can focus on is Simon. He's got his eyes closed and he's sat cross-legged, and his tie is haphazardly slung around his neck. His shirt is unbuttoned part way (he's always trying to kill me, the tosser) and his curls, as always, are tousled and bloody chaotic. But the thing that mesmerizes me most about him is the way he glows. He always glows (to me, anyway), but surrounded by these stars, he shines even brighter.

When I finally wrench my eyes from him (what a sad thing to do) to look at the stars, I feel Simon looking at me. His gaze is burning, as always, and I can only simply ignore it. All around us are supernovas, and stars light years and light years away. (And he's still watching _me_. Why is that?)

I turn my head back toward him. (It's a bit awkward, holding his hands while I plan on being rude to him. Even after all he's done... I can't _help it_.) "Can I _help_ you, _Snow_?" He flushes red (I do wish I could see how far down the blush goes) and only shakes his head.

He thinks for a moment (unusual for him) before saying, softly, "Your mum really promised you that she'd do this for you?" I nod in response. We're quiet for a long while before he tugs my hands and I nearly sprawl on top of him. (It's hard to remember there's a bed under us. If I think about it for too long, the stars fade.) (He's a bloody wreck, he is.)

After a moment of adjusting, we're laying down, side by side, hand in hand. Looking up at the stars. I hear Simon say "There was something else your mum said..." I don't know what he's on about, but if it involves him keeping something about my mum from me, we're going to have larger issues. "She said to- to um, give you something." I'm focused on making sure the stars don't fade. I don't want to leave. I feel safe, here next to my enemy. (Merlin. Funny how that works, yeah?)

"Well? What is it? Come on then, Snow." He turns his head to look at me, and I do the same. (It's all I can do to keep the stars from fading and being replaced by blue eyes and bronze curls around us.) He leans forward and presses a soft kiss to my forehead. My stomach twists (in a pleasant way or not, I'm not quite sure. In a way.) I can feel my hand shaking slightly in Simon's. Luckily, I don't sweat. I run cold, thank Merlin.

"She told me to give you that." He settles back against the bed and if it weren't for my superior hearing, I might not have heard him.

"Right, well. That's... thank you Snow." He looks over at me, but I don't look back at him, for fear of making the stars disappear. I know we can't stay here forever, but... I'd like to stay as long as I can. As long as he'll let me.

***Simon's POV***

****I wonder how long he'll let me look at the stars with him. (Well. I'm more looking at _him_ , but 's the same thing, innit?) This has been nicer than we've ever bloody been to each other, and it's... well it's not terrible, I reckon. He's not snapped at me, and he didn't make a move to kill me when I... well, when I gave him what his mother gave me. And he hasn't made a move to leave yet. Not that I _like_ holding hands with my enemy looking at the stars, but, well. I s'pose it's better than having him plot.

When I look over, he's gazing up at the thousands - _millions_ \- of stars above us. He looks sad almost, but that can't be right. Baz is never _sad_. A complete arsehole, and maybe sometimes _lonely_ , yes, but not _sad_. I never really thought him _lonely_ , either. He has Dev and Niall, and in some fucked up way, he almost has me, too. I'm not saying I wouldn't kill him given the chance- but p'raps if he were in mortal danger I wouldn't just _stand around_. But I think that's what any decent person would do, even if the bloke was their enemy. (I think briefly about the fact that I'm missing breakfast, and my stomach's started to rumble, but I don't want to move. I'll think about _why_ , later.)

I've been thinking a lot, lately. (Baz'd snort if I told him that. _Well that's a first, Snow_ he'd say. Prat.) _A lot_ meaning more than usual, and _lately_ meaning since last night. Since we saw the stars the first time. I've been thinking about the stars, and Watford, and the Old Families, and _him_. Baz, I mean. About how all the stars have a reason, so we do, too. They're up there with a purpose, and I think that maybe we are too. What it is, I dunno, but... well I'm thinking maybe I don't want to kill Baz. And not because he seems to have gone a bit soft. Because I don't really _want_ to. Why take away someone who has a purpose here? Who's a _star_? I'm not saying I want a bloody cuppa with him, and it doesn't mean I _like_ him all the sudden. Just that maybe I want something new.

But I dunno. I think 's just me who wants that, anyway. Baz turns to me, and I've only just now realized I've been staring at him. (He's about to bite my bloody head off, I just know it.) " _Thank you_ , Snow. _Really_... thank you." I dunno what I was expecting, but it wasn't that. I can only nod in response.

...

I miss brekkie... and teatime... and lunch, and dinner while I'm in the stars with Baz. It didn't _really_ matter because whenever I thought of food, it appeared, anyway. My magic hasn't been exhausted yet, odd enough. The few times I conjured food for Baz, he wouldn't eat it, the stubborn prick. S'pose he'll just bloody _starve_. But instead of fighting him on it, I just frowned and he pretended not to notice.

We haven't talked all that much. I think it's because I don't wanna fuck anything up and have him pulling away. I like watching the stars. It's been so peaceful here with him, for the first time... _ever_ , and for as long as he'll stay, I want him to. I know we'll have to leave this bubble of safety eventually. I just. Well, I don't want to do it now. ( _Crowley_ I wish it could last longer.)

But far too soon for my liking (I still put that into my box of things not to think about), Baz looks at me, and I feel the stars blinking out, one by one. "Snow, I think perhaps it's time we come down to Earth." Something twists in my gut, but I ignore it and pull my magic back in all the same. As fast as the stars had come, they disappear, and we're left in our very bland, but very familiar and safe room in Mummers. Nothing changed, everything untouched. (I wondered briefly if the stars were his plot to have someone come in while we were gone and steal my things. I didn't think about it for long.)

I'm faintly aware that we're still holding hands, and even though I pulled back, they still feel like magic.

***Baz's POV***

****We're still holding hands, and true to supernovas, I think I may combust. This day has been wonderful, and I curse at myself for telling him to end it. But I realized that I got so much of Snow today - more than I ever could have asked for - that it wasn't fair to him. He bloody did it out of _pity_. He was lovely today- offering me food, letting me see the stars for my mum, _kissing me_ , and staying with me the whole day. But I can't let myself be fooled by it; we're still enemies, and nothing more. He did this because he felt bad for the poor, motherless vampire who just wanted to see the stars for her. Well the toff can just bugger off. (I dreadfully wish he wouldn't, though.)

But he's looking at me now, and instead of telling him that he's dead from the neck up, I say, "Thank you again, Simon. For everything. For the stars," Even in the dark, I can see him flush. "I'm sorry I kept you-"

"Don't be, Baz. Wasn't any trouble. 'Course I helped." He sits up, dragging me up with him. He realizes that we're still holding hands and quickly pulls away, despite my (silent) protestations. (I suppose he's still repulsed by me. Figures.)

"It's just that..." It's all too much. Him doing this for me a second time. The whole day. It's _too much_ and I'm still high off his magic, and he's _right here saying that I shouldn't be sorry_. I don't know whether to blame him, the magic, or the stars for what I say next. (Granted, they're all basically the same thing.) "Simon, you were the brightest thing in my day. And we spent it amongst the stars." He looks taken aback, and almost instantly I regret what I said. _You're the brightest thing in my day? And we spent it amongst the stars?!_ It's a load of poetic tosh is what it is, and not even _good_ poetic tosh. It's not even poetic! (Never mind the fact that I just confessed my largest secret to the one straight person that it's about.)

He doesn't react for a long moment, in which I spend sufferingly staring at his Adam's apple. "Listen Snow, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have... it's just that-" I'm cut off by his lips on mine and his hands in my hair. I'm most _definitely_ combusting, now.

I suppose it was a bit poetic then... wasn't it?

***Simon's POV***

****I've found it. It's _this_. _This_ is my purpose. My _star_. 


End file.
